Some Stains Don't Come Out
by Orpah
Summary: A sad fic about Ukraine being there for Russia- when he was little, and even now, when all she can really do is try to reassure him. Russia/Ukraine, though more brother-sisterly.


Okay, so I got this idea from my teacher talking about her kids... I hope you enjoy!

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Russia walked along the deck of his ship proudly. The little boy was a pirate captain, and had already subdued the Scandinavian countries. Now, he was sailing to attack England, and take all his treasures. He was already so rich, he didn't know where he would fit all the excess baubles, but that did not concern him at this time.

Now, he would be victorious! People would hear his name and tremble in terror! He would be legend! He would be- wait, what was that wetness pooling around his feet? Was his ship sinking?!

Russia woke up, feeling wet and cold. His heart sunk in disbelief as he felt his bed. No, not again... He didn't even drink anything before he went to bed, he was sure of it! Another wetness found its way to his face, as he started to cry. He felt so stupid. No one else wet their beds, at least not that he'd met. Well, maybe Latvia did, but that didn't really make Russia feel any better.

The door to his room creaked open suddenly, letting in a little light. Ukraine's shadowed face peered in, the candlelight highlighting her concerned features.

"Russia? Are you okay?" Russia responded by quickly covering the wet spot with the rest of his blanket. "I-I'm fine, big sister! Nothing's wrong!"

He desperately hoped she would just turn around and go back to bed, and it seemed for a moment she would do so. Then she stopped, sniffing the air. And Russia's hopes were dashed.

"Did you wet the bed again?" Ukraine asked, her tone that of a sympathetic mother's.

Russia shook his head vigorously, sniffling. "No! ....yes.... But I didn't mean to..." He punctuated the sentence with a hiccup, causing Ukraine to sigh as she came over. She patted his head softly.

"It's okay... It happens to everybody. I know you didn't mean to." Russia reached out to hug Ukraine, and she backed away a little, grimacing. "Um, how about we get you cleaned up now, Russia?" Russia sighed, climbing out of his bed and helping to bundle up his bedding. Ukraine took it from him gingerly, and carefully carried it out of the room. Russia trailed after her like a lost duckling, shoulders hunched a little in embarassment.

"Don't worry, I'm sure the stains will come out..." Ukraine said, which did make Russia look at her with his teary little eyes. "Thanks, sister." She smiled ruefully at him, glad to know this problem could be smoothed out.

_Many years in the future...._

Russia buried his head in his hands, breathing heavily. The blood was everywhere... And the worst part was, it was his. His own people's blood. A strangled sob broke free from his throat, as he curled in tighter on himself.

He heard the door creak open, and a horrified gasp. "R-Russia..." It was his older sister, Ukraine. He glanced up to see her shocked features, partially hidden in the gloomy light. "R-Russia, did you... do this?" She seemed to be keeping her distance, as if he would rip her head off if she was right.

He felt another sob force its way out of his throat. "No!...yes... But I didn't mean to..." he sobbed harder, his raspy voice indicating overuse. Ukraine said nothing, clearly out of her league. Russia heard the door close, and his head sunk farther into his arms. Even she didn't want to be near him anymore, he was that much of a monster.

He was startled when he felt a shaking hand against his back, and whipped his head around to see Ukraine kneeling nervously next him. She seemed to be trying to form words, and when sound finally came out of her mouth, she said, "L-let's get you cleaned up, o-okay?"

Russia shook his head. He could never be clean of this. He felt Ukraine's hand in his, and slowly followed her out of the room. "Don't worry, I'm s-sure the stains will come out..." Ukraine said uncertainly, however, Russia knew the truth. The stains might come out of his clothes, but they would never come out of his soul.

/AN/ Okay... That didn't turn out quite like I planned... It actually was completely different from the idea I got from my teacher. But I hope you guys liked it anyway! It's not entirely historically accurate, just so you're aware...


End file.
